


Because

by sharedwithyou



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Humor, Mixed Signals, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: Everything besides your height is huge. Your passion for change, your hunger for knowledge, your loyalty to your cause.Also your appetite and penchant for all things shiny.So maybe that’s why he’s not interested.But you certainly haven’t had enough whiskey to allow wallowing in misery.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Reader, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Because

**Author's Note:**

> Because I posted fluff this week and that must be remedied 
> 
> Because I love playing as a dwarf but it means Cullen friendzones us
> 
> Because I can
> 
> Because I’m Bucky the Angstmaster
> 
> Enjoy lovelies!!
> 
> P.S. just pretend early-Tevinter is a valid and rare vintage

“Is it because I believe in the Stone?”

Varric sprays the table with beer as Iron Bull elbows you in heathenly camaraderie.

“No, Inquisitor, I believe you are losing because our dear Ambassador is dealing. And cheating.”

Josie makes an indignant noise as the rest of the table pushes their coins in her direction.

“Trust me, if the Maker was involved I would not be flat broke.” Cullen says morosely.

“Or without your breeches!” A singsong voice comes from underneath the table. “Don’t worry, I gave the Inquisitor a bunch a while back. She’ll find you a pair.”

Cullen jumps in mortification and rushes away without another word.

“What’s up his bum? Nothing wrong with being naked. I wasn’t even looking. No thank you.” Sera rambles drunkenly as you spray beer all over your cards.

“The dwarves are banned from drinking!” Blackwall announces. “For wasting my good Conscription whiskey!”

“Hey it’s not our fault people always say something funny right when we take a sip!” You complain.

“So this is what Cullen meant when he said you couldn’t hold your liquor? Because you’re always spit-taking?” Sera goes on loudly.

“Hush.” You nudge her with your toe but it’s too late.

“Drinking alone with the Commander? Is there anything we should know about, (y/n)?” Leliana teases.

“Hey if anyone deserves to be getting any, it’s the Herald!” Iron Bull claps you on the back and you choke on your beer. At least you didn’t spit it out.

“Well I don’t know how far they got, but something definitely happened.” Sera yells, even though everyone has stopped talking to eavesdrop. If you could call it that. “Something he’s blaming on the alcohol. Even though we all know she-“

“And I’m out.” You shove your money into the middle. “And so is Sera.”

“Hey, I was winning!” Sera whines as you lug her over your shoulder, no small feat as she was a head taller than you.

“You only had 1 card in your hand.”

“But it was the best one!”

“Had a few too many?”

Cullen walks over to your sprawled out form on the bench in the courtyard.

“Exhausted from dragging Sera up the stairs to put her to bed.”

“Should’ve let her sleep it off under the table.”

“Definitely thought about it. Didn’t have the heart, in the end.” Not to mention she wouldn’t shut up until her head hit the pillow. Took a lot of self control to not smother her with it, too.

“You’re normally so ruthless. You must have a soft spot for her.” His eyes twinkle; he knows you’re not cold-blooded. It would almost be better if you were; not that you couldn’t make the hard decisions, but it was definitely harder on you.

“Not just her.” You stick your tongue out so he can laugh it off. No need for him to fob it off as you being a lightweight this time. Not good for your ex-Carta reputation and all.

“Fair enough.” He appreciates you making a joke of it. He appreciates you saying it first and foremost, but that’s neither here nor there.

“So why have you returned to the scene of the crime?” You close the chapter on that string of banter.

“Besides basking in shame?” You guffaw at this and he can’t even mock frown. Your whole body shakes when you laugh, and it looks ridiculous. 

Maybe because your sense of humor is larger than life. Everything besides your height is huge. Your passion for change, your hunger for knowledge, your loyalty to your cause.

Also your appetite and penchant for all things shiny.

So maybe that’s why he’s not interested.

But you certainly haven’t had enough whiskey to allow wallowing in misery.

“Besides that, yes.”

“I want my clothes back.”

You sit up and make a serious face. “I’m afraid we had to burn them.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Varric drank too much and pissed all over them.”

“Excuse me?!” You'd yelled it hoping Varric would hear that and you were not disappointed. In this at least. You cackle in glee.

“I saw you swipe two sovereigns from my pile, Tethras.”

“I was making sure they were real! I know you Carta like counterfeiting.”

Cullen watches in amusement as you and Varric bicker. The two of you were so alike, without race factoring in. 

“All in all, a good game night wouldn’t you say, Commander?”

“Yes, lovely Ambassador. Now please point me to my clothes.”

“Nu-uh! I won those fair and square. You’ll have to buy them back.”

“I’m starting to believe in the Stone more than the Maker.”

“Is it because of the tattoos? My skin is rougher where they are.”

With his thumb, he traces the shapes on your cheek, even though he’d balked when you pressed it against his own earlier.

“It’s not.”

“Then…?”m

“I mean, your skin isn’t rough where they are. Not to me.”

You laugh softly and he pulls his thumb down your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. “You spilled a little wine here.”

“At least it’s not on the floor. Josephine would throw a fit if it soaked into the wood.”

The scar along his lip moves as he smirks. “I could cover for you.”

“And risk the Montilyet wrath?” You wiggle your brows. “I would not throw the Commander of the Inquisition in that warpath.”

“I think she’d be more forgiving of a bumbling Templar than a little smuggler.”

“Businesswoman!” You correct with a wink.

“I suppose she’d have to forgive the businesswoman-Inquisitor. I’ll have to do you a favor elsewhere.”

“Favor?”

His smirk grows across his annoyingly handsome face. “For going easy on me in chess. Though I’d have won anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” You get up to find the board and pieces.

“I think you’ve had too much to present a real one.” 

You open your mouth to complain so he claps his hand over it. “Let’s have a rematch when all of your wits are back. Or enough not to put your face on mine.”

You keep the grin stretched from corner to stained corner.

“Trust me, you are no match against me sober.”

“To be continued tomorrow then.” He stands to leave, but pauses. He wants to say something; this much you can tell. But whether he hasn’t found the right words or isn’t ready to say them is anyone’s guess.

Whether he doesn’t want to hurt you or he just doesn’t want you.

You yawn to save him.

You raise your glass to him as he waves goodnight. You wait until he’s gone to pour it out.

“Is it because I’m a dwarf?”

You swing your legs back and forth and look around the garden. The dragonthorn is growing well.

“I’m not in the right place to be with anyone right now.”

You’ve lived as a thug long enough to know how to answer a question without really answering it. To know when and why it’s necessary.

And really, it’s better this way. It’s not you, it’s him. It’s not who you are, it’s what you are.

It could bring up the what if’s. What if you were a Qunari? What if you were male?

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want you as you are.

“Thank you for being honest.” It’s strange to say that to someone breaking your heart. Better to thank them than crucify them.

“Thank you for understanding.” He exhales slowly. “Do you want me to go?”

“I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.” Answering his question without answering it, for irony.

He nods and gets up, noticing as always how much smaller you looked when you were sitting. He felt that same urge he always did, wanting to protect you from a world so much larger than you. But he couldn’t protect you from himself. His footsteps are heavy as he leaves.

You, on the other hand, lean back in your seat and enjoy the breeze. You don’t watch him as he walks away.

“Is it because he’s gay?”

You snort and throw an almond at Sera. “Just because he has great hair?!”

“Well he was also shacked up with a bunch of men for years!”

“There are both men and women in the Order!” You can always count on blondie to make you smile.

“Yes and he roomed with men.”

“Hmm maybe that’s why Samson went all evil. Constantly got hit on by Cullen.” Iron Bull joins you, mainly because you have nuts.

“We are not seriously having this conversation are we?” Cassandra clearly disapproves.

“I’m just saying, if he doesn’t want this adorable doll, he probably only likes penises.” Sera proclaims loudly.

“I think that’s part of the problem.” You say matter-of-factly. “I’m too short.”

“The Commander doesn’t strike me as that superficial.” Cassandra intones.

“Trust me. All men are superficial.” Bull notes wisely. “Don’t worry boss. Plenty of us like a girl we can toss across a room.”

“I mean I’m not thin by any means.”

“I could carry like 8 of you, easy.” Bull says with a grin.

“Krem, help me find 7 other dwarves so we can prove your captain is a liar.”

“Harding is right outside, we just need to find another 6.”

“I’ll get Varric.”

“Is it because of the lyrium?”

Cullen shakes his head and motions for Cassandra to try the move again.

“Are you afraid it will complicate things?”

He blocks perfectly without answering.

“You’re allowed to have feelings, you know. It won’t kill you.”

“You never know.” He finally speaks, before showing her the move once more. “Focus on your footwork, Cassandra. Not my personal affairs.”

“I assure you I can do both.”

“When you can perform that attack perfectly, you may ask me again. For now let’s drop it.”

“As you wish.” She executes it flawlessly, knocking the sword out of his hand. “I will hold onto the question for another time.”

“Huh. Now if only I could motivate the recruits like that.”

You walk around the garden, surveying the plants. The Amrita vein looks a little wilted. You’ll ask Elan to take a look at it.

“I, ah, didn’t expect to find you here.”

You look up and see Cullen smiling sheepishly.

“Just checking on the seeds I planted.”

“I didn’t know dwarves were into horticulture.”

“We’re usually too busy worshipping rocks and carting lyrium, yes.”

He coughs. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“It was a joke, Cullen.”

“Right. I didn’t know if we were… alright. Are we?”

“Well I was thinking about hurling myself off the balcony but I figured we should fix the hole in the sky first.”

He looks at you in alarm. “That was a joke, right?!”

“No, I seriously think we should fix the hole in the sky.”

“But the first part!”

You try not to roll your eyes. “Yes. Cullen. We are fine.” Why was he being so weird? You’re the one who got turned down.

“Good. I mean, I care about you. Just not…”

“Your Worship! Can you help me proofread this chapter?”

“I’d be delighted to, Master Tethras.”

“So? What do you think?”

“I think Cassandra will kill you if you let her favorite character die.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just wanted to see how it would look on paper.”

“You mean you’re keeping this to blackmail her with.”

“Exactly.”

You hand him back the draft with a grin. “I like the way you think.”

“Now all we have to do is find Cullen’s weakness and exploit it.”

You cross your arms. “Let it go, Varric.”

“We’ve all seen the chemistry, (y/n). I think you’d be great together.”

“It’s really not up to you.”

“Or you, evidently.” He waits for you to punch him, but you keep your arms crossed.

“If I wanted chemistry I’d be a Tempest.”

“Are you kidding me? An Inquisitor who’s also an assassin? This is how legends are made!”

“Inquisitor, May I ask you a personal question?”

You try not to groan. You thought everyone had finally gotten tired about asking about you and the Commander. “What is it, Josephine?”

“Do you think I’ve gained weight?”

You sigh in relief.

“So you do think so!”

“What? No, you look great!” You pat the bench so she sits beside you. 

“That’s what Leliana said too.”

“Well she’s right. Half the visiting dignitaries ask if you’re engaged.”

“I’m sure they just want connections to the Inquisition.” She says with a giggle. “I’ve just been feeling self-conscious. Every time I walk into Cullen’s office his eyes go straight my waist, first thing!””

“Really?!”

“I swear it’s true!”

“It’s because he’s expecting (y/n).”

You both jump as Cole appears between you.

“Cole, what have I told you about popping out of nowhere?!”

“Sorry.” He vanishes immediately.

“Goodness.” Josie sits down quickly. “Now that he mentions it though, that is exactly your height.”

“True. But I haven’t been in his office in weeks.”

“Yes. He misses you.” Cole reappears in the tree above you.

You pointedly ignore him. “Would you like to get some dinner, Lady Montilyet?”

“I would love to, Lady Cadash.”

“I’m surprised to see you in here, Inquisitor.” Cullen’s voice is strangely stilted.

“Some reports came in just now. Normally I’d wait until War Council tomorrow morning but this one seemed urgent. But if it is not a good time, I can come back later.”

“Oh.” He relaxes visibly. “No, I’m free now.”

You spend the next hour debating the merits of archery and cavalry. He’s halfway through an impassioned speech about different types of bowstrings when his stomach growls. “Have you had dinner yet, Commander?”

“Is it that late already?”

You chuckle. You’d forgotten how much of a workaholic he was. “Let's get you fed.” You wave a soldier over. “Could you grab a plate of whatever’s left from the kitchen?”

“Yes, Your Worship.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll go myself. Would you like to join me, (y/n)?”

“Nothing wrong with a second dinner I guess.”

“I never thought that ale would go so well with fish.”

“Yeah well you learn a few things when you’re on the wrong side of the law. One of them is how to get drunk.”

He guffaws. “That is definitely not an activity unique to criminals.”

“Okay, maybe I’m a lush.”

“Getting drunk is easy. Pairing liquor with dishes is a different thing entirely.”

“Fine, I’m a pig too.”

He nudges you with his foot. “I’m complimenting you. Stop trying to ruin it.”

“Well, work a little harder then.”

“Fine.” He makes a mock serious face at you. “You are incredibly classy, for a surface dwarf.”

You pout. “Did you have to qualify it like that?!”

“You are very classy, (y/n).”

“Thank you.” You hop out of your chair and curtsy, to which he applauds.

“Shall I get you a ladder to help you back into your chair?”

“Yeah yeah I’m short, you’re deathly pale, let’s move on.”

“Pale?!” Four ales makes the already-authoritative Commander positively booming.

“You spend so much time in the sun but you maintain the complexion of fresh snow. Women all around Thedas must be jealous.”

“Light skin for men is considered good looking in many cultures, I assure you.”

“Yes I remember the flock of followers you had at the Winter Palace.”

He shudders. “Please. You may make fun of me all you want. Just don’t bring that horrible night up ever again.”

“Hey, I’m the one who danced with a murderer.”

“If you’re looking for someone without blood on their hands you best look outside Skyhold. And the Inquisition. And half of Orlais. Maybe try Orzammar. I’m sure you can find someone of your stature.” He snickers at his own joke.

“Cullen Rutherford, you are racist.”

He gasps. “I most certainly am not!”

“Your constant comments on my height, then?”

“I thought you loved our rapport.”

“I do love being compared to a matchstick when I’m mad, yes.”

He stands up and walks over so he can pat you on the head. “Come now, being short is nothing to be embarrassed of.”

“Who said anything about being embarrassed?!” You slip under his hand and off the chair.

“Come back, I want to pat your head.”

“No, I’m not a Mabari!” You try to walk away but his every step is three of yours.

“But you’re cute like one.” He crosses in front of you and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Look, you’re not even up to my chest.”

“I’m aware of my height, yes.”

“I’d have to bend way over to kiss you.”

He looks even more shocked than you at his own words.

“So your limit is 4 ales. Good to know.”

“What? I haven’t had that many! Have I?”

You point at the empty bottles. “Count them.”

He gawks at the table. “There’s 8!”

You groan. “Yes, Commander. 4 each.”

“You’ve had 4?! But you’re acting so normal!”

“Yeah, if you can’t have at least 10 beers and still drag a minecart in a straight line they kick you out of the Carta.”

He shakes his head. “But you’re such a lightweight.”

“You decided that for me.”

“Huh.” He scratches your head instead of his own. “Interesting.”

“Hey, cut that out.” You shake him off.

“Stop running away.”

“It’s late. You should get some rest.” You sidestep him and head towards the pub.

“(Y/n). Wait.”

You sigh and turn. “Yes, Commander?”

“You can come see me when it’s not about work. Just stop by and chat.”

You chuckle softly. “Understood. Now sleep it off. I’m going to get a real drink.”

“You alright, boss?”

“Can’t a dwarf grab a beer without the third degree?”

He quirks a brow at you. “You smell like you’ve already had 5 ales but sure.”

“Wow. Do Ben-Hassarath have to train their sense of smell too?”

“No, that’s from basically living in a tavern for a year.”

“Well, you were wrong. It was 4.”

He leans back in his chair and gives you the once-over. “You’re surprisingly lucid for someone who’s just had half her body weight in alcohol.”

You giggle. “Thanks for making me feel thin. I just had a second dinner too.”

“Oh then you can probably have 4 more. Food soaks up all the liquor you can barely get a buzz.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you sure you should be drinking that much?” Cassandra the Voice Of Reason eyes you curiously.

“Trust me, anyone who gets tipsy on less than 12 beers gets kicked out of the Carta.” Varric calls from another table.

“I’ve still got my wits about me, Seeker.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes really.” You leap out of your chair, roll through her legs, and pop out the other side. “See?”

“Show off.” Sera yells from the top of the stairs.

“Come down here and say that to my face!” You holler back, before downing the beer with one huge gulp.

“Maybe I will!”

“I see your lips moving but not your feet!” You grab another beer and chug it.

“Maybe not riling Sera up would be the wise move here.” Cassandra observes.

“I’ve got a jar and I’ve got bees. Pretty sure I’m untouchable, Big Hat!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” You drain your third beer and Sera cheers. She loves seeing you let loose.

“Ok, time for some air.” Iron Bull scoops you up like a kitten and walks out the tavern.

“Aww come on! Things were just getting interesting!” Sera sticks her tongue out his retreating form.

“Put me down, Bull.”

He sets you on the grass gently and studies you. “You’re not drunk. At all.”

“Carta, 12 beers, remember?”

“Ah, both you and Varric are full of it.” He chuckles. “But you weren’t lying, you can handle your liquor.”

“Yes. Unnecessary intervention there.”

“Well, I like drowning my sorrows as much as the next guy, but it seems like with your tolerance we’d have to crack another cask. Want to just talk about it?”

“Ugh. No, mother.”

“Qunari don’t have moms, remember?”

“Then why are you so good at acting like one?”

He shrugs, not even offended. “I take care of the people I care about. If that makes me a mom, so be it.”

“Wow, you are no good at this whole banter thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not much of a talker. More of a doer.”

You nod appreciatively. “I like that.”

“Really? Aren’t you and Cullen constantly doing verbal foreplay?”

“Gah! No!” You give him your most repulsed look.

“Hey, I ain’t about to kink-shame anyone. Besides, sex talk is great. As long as it actually gets somewhere.”

You groan. “Preaching to the choir here.”

“Is that so?” He leans against the wall thoughtfully. “Probably too wound up leading an army against Corypheus.”

“Hey I’m leading an entire movement. Military, political and everything in between. And I’m still in the mood. Hell, I deserve it.”

“See that’s what I’m saying.” He looks at you thoughtfully. “You know what, he probably is gay.”

“Yeah, his hair is way too shiny and voluminous.”

“Who in their right mind would say no to you?”

“I know, right? I could feed them to a dragon just like that.” You snap your fingers, enjoying the crisp sound against the crisp air.

“You know what I meant.”

You stare at each other, and for a second you want to jump up, grab him by the horns, and ride the Bull right there in the grass next to a room full of drunk recruits and half your team.

Then you punch him in the arm and he ruffles your hair. “Let’s get another beer.”

“Yeah I want to see if you can still do that spinning move after 12 beers.”

“Fine but it will have to be through you. Cassandra’s going to be expecting it now.”

“You can roll through my legs anytime, boss.”

“How’s your head?”

“I feel like a rage demon jumped up and down on it repeatedly.”

You chuckle. “I think they prefer slithering.”

He rubs his temples. “I don’t remember much of last night. Did I say or do anything untoward?”

If only. “Nothing unforgivable, don’t you worry.”

“So there was something then.” He shakes his head. “If I did anything to jeopardize our friendship in any way-“

You shove a cookie in his mouth. “Cullen. Stop being weird.”

“Very well.” He mumbles, dropping cookie crumbs everywhere. “Did you bake these?”

“Yes. Do you like them?”

“They’re delicious.”

“You free for some roof time, Sera?”

“With your fine ass? Anytime. Bring some of my cookies. I want to see if I can hit Vivienne out on the balcony with one.”

“Sorry, all out.”

“You’re kidding.” She pouts. “You promised not to throw them away!”

“I didn’t. Cullen ate them.”

“Really?!” She giggles excitedly. “They were good this time?!”

You snort. “Absolutely not. Raisins, Sera. I thought we agreed not to put raisins. Also you forgot to switch the sugar back. Your own prank backfired on us.”

“Damn. He’s got it bad for you then.”

You roll your eyes. “As if.”

“(Y/n). He just ate two dozen salt cookies. Salties? Let’s call them salties.”

“Let’s not name them. They are an unspeakable shame henceforth.”

“I see you’ve mastered the move I showed you. Interesting form. It’s not quite the one I taught you, but it seems effective as well.”

Cassandra grunts. “I modified it to repel attackers attempting to gain footing between my legs.”

Cullen looks at her like she sprouted another head. “That’s a...surprisingly specific tactic.”

“The Inquisitor showed me I’d left myself vulnerable to attack.”

Cullen knows Cassandra’s temper, and hesitates briefly before proceeding. “Vulnerable...between the legs?”

Cassandra realizes the way it sounds and glowers at him. “Not like that! This is a serious matter! She had 4 drinks and was still able to roll between them!”

“Ah. Now I understand.” He’s managed to keep a straight face, no small feat. “The Inquisitor actually has a very high alcohol tolerance. So she was probably at or very near her normal combat ability. And she wouldn’t be the Inquisitor if she couldn’t challenge your reflexes.”

“As if leading the Inquisition has anything to do with sparring capabilities.” Cassandra grouses.

“I’m sure you would lose respect for her the first time she rolled head-on into a darkspawn’s feet.”

Cassandra can’t help but smile at the thought. She also can’t help but feel like he’d gotten a laugh at her expense. Even if he had held it in. “So what was it that made you lose interest in her then?”

Cullen’s face darkens. This feels like an ambush, even if she had already earned the right to ask. “Nothing.”

“You can’t put it off forever, you know.”

He narrows his eyes. “I happen to think there is nothing wrong with being single.”

“As do I. I meant you can’t put off answering my question.”

He colors slightly, but his shoulders are less tense now. “Oh. Right.”

“But since you are clearly more confused than I, we can postpone this conversation for another time.”

“I’m not confused, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

Cassandra nods, before sliding forward with her knee to knock him by his quads onto the ground. “Well what do you know. Between the legs is an excellent approach after all.”

It’s well past midnight by the time you make your way out of the tavern. Krem had somehow gotten his hands on a very rare vintage, so of course you and Bull had a drinking contest. You’d both lost count after 20, but you’re pretty sure neither of you had hit 50 yet by the time everyone else passed out. You’d agreed it was a tie, though shaking on it was impossible because you couldn’t tell which of the eight pairs of hands were actually yours. Still, you’re fairly certain you can make it to your room without puking.

“Maker’s Breath, how much did you drink?!”

You recognize Cullen’s voice, even if he looks like a swirly blob. “It was early-Tevinter. You can’t have less than 20 cups or it’s like spitting on Andraste.”

He sighs heavily. “Alright let's get you to bed.” You roll your eyes, but let him steer you towards the hall.

“And why are you still up, Commander?”

“I was waiting on some news from Rylen. The messenger was delayed until an hour ago.”

You blow a very messy raspberry at him. “You’re full of shit.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cullen stops abruptly, almost tripping you. You wobble unsteadily, but manage to stay upright.

“Rylen’s messenger arrived this afternoon. Saw him making eyes at Flissa in the garden.”

“Why are you always in the garden?!”

“The rocks there speak to me.”

“Now who’s full of it?” He, at least, curbs his language.

You lean against the wall, feeling the room spin. Slowly though; you were no lightweight.

“Why are you really up, Cullen?”

He looks at you appraisingly, deciding you were too drunk to bother lying to. “Something Cassandra said kept bothering me. Made it unable to fall asleep.”

You slide onto the ground, since it seems soft enough to sleep on right about now. “What did the pretty little Seeker say?”

He snorts. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“That she’s pretty? I’ve told her numerous times.”

“I think it’s the ‘little’ she will take offense at.”

You groan loudly. “What is it with people and size? There’s nothing wrong with being small!”

He chuckles and squats next to you. “Yes, Your Worship. Now climb on my back. Otherwise you’ll never make it to bed.”

You whine, but slump forward onto him. “If I seem heavy it’s because I drank half my body weight in liquor. Actually maybe my whole body weight.”

He grunts but hitches you up further so you won’t fall. “How much is that, exactly?”

“Cullen Rutherford!” He definitely deserves getting called his full name. “You never ask a woman that.”

“I thought that was age.”

“It’s both!”

“I think I’m entitled to an estimate, considering there’s three more flights of stairs.”

You groan again. Are you more irritable when you’re wasted, or is he more annoying? “Just put me down then.”

“Are you so vain you’d rather gamble with the stairs than tell me?”

It’s definitely him that’s more annoying. “It has nothing to do with vanity. It’s private. None of your business.”

He pauses and turns to look at you. Well as much as he can with you on his back.

“Knowing won’t change how I see you.”

It comes again, so easily, the ache in your stomach that you’d managed to push away since that day. So strongly now, that you wondered how you managed to avoid it until now.

“Apparently I’m light enough for you to stand around playing twenty questions.”

“Point taken.”

By the time the two of you arrive at your door, Cullen is staggering more than you did in the hall. 

“You know, most people are more forthcoming when they are drunk.” To his credit, he’d only asked you your weight twice more on the way up.

“The Inquisitor can hardly be lumped in with most people.” You lean against the door, not ready to go in yet. Not ready for this part of the night to be over.

“True enough. Do you need help opening the door too?”

You cross your arms and study him. Your buzz has already worn off slightly, so you can see the wrinkles on his forehead. How long has he spent with it furrowed? Since the sky was torn open? Since Kirkwall? Since Ferelden?

If he were too damaged to love, he still could have at least answered you first.

No, (y/n), it’s not because you’re a dwarf.

But he didn’t.

“What did Cassandra say that made it so difficult to sleep?”

He folds his arms and regards you curiously. Once more he decides on the truth. “She said I was confused.”

“I can see how a shocking and ridiculous accusation like that could keep you up.”

“About you.”

Even on your 50th drink, you’d still hold onto your sense of humor. This was nothing. “I am rather befuddling.”

“On the contrary. You are open. Not just for an ex-Carta Inquisitor with the fate of the world on her shoulders. No qualifiers.

No pretense. No games. Open minded, openhearted. In a world that’s chewed up and spit out the rest of us.

You are so open. It is beautiful.”

It. Not you.

You give him a fake smile, ironic considering the declaration he just made. “Thank you for being honest.”

He’d realize you were faking if he wasn’t stuck inside his own head. “But I am not. Not like you. In fact I wouldn’t even be telling you any of this if you weren’t so drunk.”

Statements like that are always sobering. But the cold air in the hall was doing just as much of the work. “Remind me to drink more on a regular basis then.”

“I’m not sure my heart could take it.” He doesn't smile when he says it. He wants you to know he’s serious.

You’ve grown up with liars and conmen, you’d read him right even if he pretended it was a joke. But he doesn’t know that. And you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Well if you’re weak-hearted, you might want to get going before I hurl all over you.”

He backs away quickly, but doesn’t leave. 

“I always thought you were joking when we flirted. I had fun playing along. I didn’t think I’d be able to, ever, but it was easy with you. It felt good; like I was more than just a walking instrument of war. Like I was human.

I didn’t realize you meant it with me. I’m sorry if I led you on. You deserve to be with someone who can love you the way you love them.”

Well, now the booze was just itching to come up and spray his non-apology in the face. But you weren’t feeling pukey. You just wanted him to go.

“Cullen, you have two seconds before the pre-Tevinter ends up as post-Cadash all over your feet.”

“I’ll let you rest then. Should I send someone up with a bucket?”

“With any luck I’ll pass out before I throw up.”

“Do you need me to carry you to your bed?” Under any other circumstance that would be raunchy and romantic. But you’re not actually sleepy, just as he’s not actually in love.

“I’ve got it. Goodnight Commander.”

“Sweet dreams, (y/n).”

The aftertaste of alcohol was bitter. The aftertaste of his admission, sour.

Sweet was when you met him and he was bashful, when you played chess and he pretended you didn’t cheat the first time, when you put a hand on his shoulder during a withdrawal fit and he leaned into you.

Because a dwarf is the perfect size and perfectly connected to Stone. To be a stepping stone for his ego.

**Author's Note:**

> IM NOT SORRY
> 
> By the way it’s such a dick move to flirt w someone you have no interest in just Bc you like attention. Learned that the hard way.  
> Damn that boy. I count this fic as working out my issues
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked!
> 
> Quick poll 1; which line got you?
> 
> I put a bit of iron bull fluff- just a bit Bc I want the angst to pop
> 
> Also I haven’t finished my fourth run and I’m in the middle of romancing Iron Bull so NO SPOILERS PLEASE
> 
> Thanks for reading! Have a great week lovelies!
> 
> Xoxo Bucky


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